Age of Glory | Pietro Maximoff

Chapter Eight: I Adore You

Picture is from Avengers: Age Of Ultron by Marvel Studios.

Music is "Tessa" by Steve Jablonsky ft. Daniel Reynolds of Imagine Dragons from the Transformers: Age Of Extinction OST.

All right go to their rightful owners.

· ~ · ~ · ~ ·

"I adore you." ~Natasha Romanoff

· ~ · ~ · ~ ·

CHAPTER EIGHT

Pietro can't sleep by himself. I've learned that much about him in the last 24 hours. You thought it was bad when I woke him wrong? Try letting him sleep by himself.

After a night of horrible movies and too much popcorn (he'd never had it), we had gone to sleep in different rooms. I slept in my bedroom, and Pietro made himself a comfortable spot in my spare room/office.

It's around four in the morning when I wake with a jolt to subtle groaning and quiet cries. I get up from bed, holding my arms out in front of me. Not because it's dark, I have little lights along the hallways to light them at night because of my sight issues.

I take a hold of the rails along the hallway and walk by memory to the guest room. I gently push the door open to a scary sight.

Pietro is laying in the bed, drenched in sweat. His white tank top can't cover his heaving chest as he struggles to breathe. His face is contorted with pain, his eyebrows pulling together and his teeth clenched shut.

His whimpers get louder. He makes fists of the comforter that covers his moving body. "Нет! Уходи! Оставь меня в покое!" he groans.

I don't have a clue what he's saying, but he's clearly hurting. I walk over to his bed and shake his shoulders, not caring if he snaps or pushes me away. I can't stand this! "Pietro! Pietro, wake up!"

His eyes open with a startled look, clear and calm, surprisingly. He sits up quickly and looks around, frantic. "Where is he?"

"Where is who, love?" I ask, stroking his hair from his sweaty forehead.

"Strucker. He-he was just h-here." His eyes scan every inch of the room, making sure that his worst nightmare isn't present.

I sigh and pull his head into my chest. "It's okay, Pietro. Shh, shh."

I whisper soothing things to him, calming him down. Eventually, his shoulders relax and he leans into my hold. "I am sorry," he whispers. "I hate this."

"I do, too," I reply in a shushed tone. "I'm here, though. I'm here and no one is going to get you."

Pietro wraps his arms around me and pulls me into the bed, under the covers with him. His arms tangle themselves around my waist as he holds me dearly to him. His breathing becomes controlled again, and his beautiful blue eyes flutter shut. "How did you know?" he asks.

"I heard you from my room." I thread my fingers through his white and silver locks, enjoying the softness.

He sighs. "I am sorry I woke you. It's just, normally, Wanda and I share either a room or a bed. She keeps the nightmares away, and I keep her feeling protected. We help each other sleep. This is the first time in a long time, since our parents were killed and our house was bombed by Tony Stark, that I have not had Wanda, or anyone, near me when I sleep."

"That's why you stayed with me last night?" I ask.

He nods slowly. "Yes. I am sorry... if I made you uncomfortable. I intended just to sleep on the other side..."

"It's okay," I smile slightly. "You're a cuddler, that's all."

"Wanda hates it," he admits, chuckling to himself. "You can leave whenever you want, by the way. You are in no way forced to stay here. I will be okay."

"I don't want to leave," I whisper.

Pietro looks up at me, a smile on his face in the darkness. "Спасибо."

"Thank you?" I assume aloud.

He nods. "I will have to teach you Russian sometime," he says, running his palms alone my waist, his fingers drumming patterns on my spine.

"And I'll have to teach you how to do this." I lean down and place a small peck on his lips, soft and warm. I meant nothing but affection and care by it.

Pietro looks at me, surprise on his face. "Мой прекрасный Слава." His accent makes my skin tingle, and his foreign language will forever fascinate me.

He leans in, closer, ever so slowly, drawing it out. My heart speeds up in anticipation. His lips just graze mine, teasing me. "Y-You need to stop that," I tell him. "You're not playing fair." I move closer but he pulls the same distance away.

"Are you sure about this?" Pietro asks. "I will not push you to do anything you do not want to do, like I was."

I smile sweetly at him. "I want this." I lean in, and kiss him. This time, he kisses me back.

Pietro's lips move in syn against mine, sweet and gentle and chaste. He pulls me closer, his warm hands against my cool skin. I reach up to cup his face with my hands. His slight scruff is scratchy on my palms. I trace his high cheekbones, down his jaw.

He backs up, looking me in the eye. "Is this okay?" He kisses my cheeks, nose, forehead.

I nod, smiling like an idiot. "More than okay. Way better than okay." I lean in again. "What about you?"

"I..." Pietro trails off, brushing my hair from my face.

I tilt my head into his palm. "What is it?"

"I think I love you, Glory Northern."

END CHAPTER EIGHT

· ~ · ~ · ~ ·

Russian words:

"Нет! Уходи! Оставь меня в покое!"

English translation:

"No! Go away! Leave me alone!"

Russian words:

"Мой прекрасный Слава."

English translation:

"My beautiful Glory."

· ~ · ~ · ~ ·

Hey guys!

IT'S HAPPENED. IT'S FINALLY HAPPENED! :D

So, what do you think? Good enough? What do you think I should add? :)

Thank you all so much!

Love and Light,
~Save_Pietro_Maximoff